Wishlist
by Amour en Rayures
Summary: Matt wants only one thing this Christmas but knows he won't get it, not with how many times Mello has disappointed him in the past. Little does he know that Mello has something different planned for him this year.


Inspired by the song Wishlist by The Ready Set  
>Dedicated to my wonderful girlfriend who will be all too far away from me this Christmas.<p>

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note or any of its characters or, for that matter, anything else.

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><p><strong>Wishlist<strong>

Matt awoke to the sound of one of the younger children running down the hall outside his room, squealing. He groaned into his pillow and rolled over, pulling the covers over his head. He didn't want to get up, he didn't want it to be Christmas, and he didn't want to sit around all day pretending to be happy when he wasn't.

Christmas morning. Of course. That's why everyone was up so early; they wanted to open their gifts. Matt pulled the covers down so that he could look out at the room. The bed that still sat opposite his over a year later was empty. The only gift he wanted wasn't there. Christmas was pointless.

Over a year now Mello had been gone. A year and twenty days to be precise. A year and twenty days with no word from his best friend who had promised to find some way to stay in contact. As if leaving hadn't been bad enough, Mello had to break his promise.

He could remember the night Mello left perfectly. He had found Mello packing, tears streaming down his face that afternoon. Mello had told him about L's death and that he couldn't stay there any longer. Matt didn't believe that anymore then, lying in his bed on Christmas morning than he did that year and twenty days ago. Of course his best friend could have stayed, but there was no arguing with him once his mind was set.

But in all the years that he had known Mello, he had never lied to him, so when he had promised to keep in touch, Matt believed him. The previous Christmas, he had expected a card at least; on his birthday, he had expected a letter maybe; over the summer, he had slowly lost his expectations. He no longer expected anything from Mello, but that didn't mean that he didn't want to hear from him, something to tell him that he was alright.

There was a knock at his door. "Hey, Matt? Are you-" he heard Théo say in his French accent, only to be cut off by Linda.

"What are you doing?" she hissed. "Leave him alone! Remember last Christmas? He can stay in his room if he wants to." It was just like Linda to try to 'help.' Unfortunately, her words, though spoken in a low tone, were loud enough for him to hear and only made him feel worse.

"Oh, désolé, Matt. I'll come back later," Théo called through the door, and he didn't hear anything else from either of them.

Last Christmas, he had been so hopeful. He had been so sure that Mello would take the opportunity to keep his promise, only to be let down. He'd woken up early just like everyone else and ran out to parlour where the tree had been set up, expecting to find something, anything from Mello. When everyone had their gifts and there was nothing left under the tree, Linda had tried to comfort him, saying that whatever Mello had sent had was probably just delayed in the post, that it would probably come within the next week. Rodney had overheard and told him that he was wasting his time and that Mello had probably already forgotten him.

It didn't matter that Rodney was two years older than Matt or that he was quite a bit taller and much stronger; Matt couldn't stand to hear him say that and had punched him square in the jaw without even thinking about it. Violence had never been his thing—it had been Mello's—but it had felt good putting Rodney in his place. At least until the older boy had recovered from his shock and had sought revenge.

Matt pulled the covers back up over his head. Linda was right; he could stay in his room if he wanted. Maybe he would take Christmas off this year.

• • •

"Get out of the way!" Mello yelled, running though the airport. People turned to watch him rush past, but very few actually took heed to his warning. He pushed past a lady who had either not heard or didn't care. "Sorry," he called over his shoulder to her.

He came to an abrupt stop, finally reaching the Security Check. He looked from the long line in front of him to the clock on the wall. His flight would be leaving in thirty minutes; if he missed it, he wouldn't make it back in time.

He looked down the line again trying to think of a way to get through Security faster. Unfortunately, most of the things he thought of would only end up delaying him further if he got caught, so he did the only other thing he could think of. "Oi! My flight's about to leave. Anyone wanna let me skip ahead of 'em?" he yelled to the line that stretched out before him. He received no answer unless he counted the glare the woman in front of him gave him.

• • •

The door was thrown open. "Matt!" he heard, "Up, Matt!" and the covers were being pulled off of him. "For you!" the small Spanish girl said, thrusting a piece of paper in front of his face.

"Thanks, Rosita," he said groggily, sitting up and taking it from her. It was a picture drawn in crayon of what he presumed to be the two of them standing by a Christmas tree.

"Is Matt and Rosita," she said, pointing to the picture, confirming his previous conclusion.

"It's beautiful," he told her, trying his best to give her a smile.

"Come open presents!" she said, grabbing his hand and trying to pull him towards the door.

"I don't think so, kiddo…"

"Why Matt no want to open presents?" she said, eyes suddenly wide and pleading.

"I…alright. Let's go," he sighed and let her drag him from his room. He couldn't say no to her anyway.

At only five years of age, she was easily the youngest child at Wammy's House but was supposed to be extremely intelligent even by Wammy's standards. He figured she had to be to have already learned as much English as she did in the short three months she had been there, even if it wasn't always spoken perfectly.

From the day she had arrived, she had attached herself to him for no other reason than the colour of his hair from what he could tell. She was fascinated by his dark red hair, calling him "hombre rojo" the entire first week she was there. Despite the antisocial pattern he had fallen into since Mello had left, Rosita could make him do anything she wanted, including going out to the parlour to open presents.

"Hey, Matt," Linda said upon seeing him enter the room, speaking to him as if he were a small child, "How are you doing today?"

"Good, thanks Linda, but please don't treat me like I'm mental," he returned, mocking her tone.

She leaned over and said something to Tatiana who was sitting next to her, but Matt didn't hear her over Rosita telling him to "Sit!" He did so, and she ran to the tree to look for her gift, her long dark braids flopping over her shoulders. He watched her dig through the as of yet unclaimed presents until she pulled one out and ran back to him. "'To Matt,'" she read off the small card attached. It didn't list who it was from, but it didn't have to; Mr. Wammy always bought one gift for each of the children at Christmas.

"Go find yours," he told Rosita, putting it down next to him, but she shook her head 'no.'

"Open it!" she commanded, picking the box back up and holding it out to him once more. He took it from her somewhat reluctantly. He honestly didn't care what it was, but he opened it anyway, seeing the smile on her face. A new game for his Nintendo DS, _Final Fantasy III_ to be exact. He should have been excited—it was the only game of the _Final Fantasy_ series to have never previously been released outside of Japan—but he couldn't bring himself to be.

Rosita actually seemed more excited about it than he did, though he doubted she understood what was significant about it. "Go get yours now," he said, motioning to the presents that still sat under the tree, and she ran back to find her gift.

• • •

Finally through security, Mello took off running again, hearing the final boarding call for his flight. He frantically scanned the terminal, looking for his gate, elated when he spotted the sign that informed him that he had found it. When he saw that the hostess was closing the door, however, his heart sank.

"Wait!" he yelled to her, waving his boarding pass in the air wildly. She turned to see him and appeared to hesitate before slowly reopening the door. "Here," he panted out, holding out the boarding pass, trying to catch his breath.

She didn't appear all too happy about it, but she took it from him and looked it over before handing it back to him. "Have a good flight," she said, although she didn't sound very sincere about it.

"Thanks," he said earnestly and proceeded through the door. Even though she wasn't acting the part of friendly airport hostess very well, she could have just told him that they were done boarding and that he'd have to find a later flight.

Finally on the plane, he was led to his seat and placed his backpack, the only luggage he was taking, in the overhead compartment before sitting down next to an old man who bore a strange resemblance to Roger. Mello latched the seatbelt and let his head fall back against the headrest, able to relax for the first time all day.

He was still angry with the alarm clock in the hotel he had been staying at for not going off, making him late for his flight, but it had turned out not to matter. He had made it in time and wouldn't be missing another Christmas with Matt. All he had left to do was wait the seven hours for his flight from New York to Winchester to land.

• • •

Matt sat on the couch in the play room with his DS and new game. He was having a hard time paying attention to it though, dying more often than he should have. The only reason he was even there was to keep Rosita company who was playing with her new doll on the floor at his feet.

Giving up on his video game, he shut his DS and laid his head down on the arm of the couch, closing his eyes. He couldn't care less about Christmas; he just wanted the day to be over.

A couple minutes later, he felt someone sit down next to him on the couch but chose not to acknowledge whoever it was. "How are you?" he heard Near's monotone voice ask him.

He looked up, surprised that Near, of all people, would submit to simple social pleasantries. "Great, Near. I'm just great," he said sarcastically.

"No, you're not," he said, rather matter of fact.

"Yep, you caught me. I'm having a terrible day. Nothing gets past you, Near."

This caught Rosita's attention. "Why is Matt not happy?" she asked, and although she had been looking at Matt when she said it, Near was the one to answer.

"He's upset that his best friend forgot him again."

"Don't you have something better to do?" Matt demanded. "Something to do with the Kira Case maybe? Or did you give up and decide you couldn't handle being L's replacement?" Since L had died, Near had taken over for him, working out of Wammy's House for the time being, though Matt didn't know why he even bothered. No one could ever really _replace_ L.

"It's Christmas," Near said simply, as if this was an obvious answer to Matt's questions.

"Right, because I'm sure Kira takes Christmas off too."

"Matt, I don't wish to argue with you."

"Then why are you here?"

Near sighed as if the conversation was becoming tiring. "I wanted to say I'm sorry that Mello forgot again. I know he means a lot to you."

"Thanks…I guess," Matt said, not really sure how to respond.

"You're welcome," Near said and got up from the couch. "Merry Christmas," he added before leaving. Matt watched as he left the room, still dumbfounded by Near's strange actions. Not that he didn't always act a bit strange.

"Why Matt's friend forget him?" Rosita asked innocently, looking up at him with large brown eyes.

"I don't know," he said, shaking his head, "I wish I knew."

"You can have Ana," she offered, holding her doll up for him to take, "She can be Matt's friend."

"Thanks," Matt said with a small laugh, "but she's yours. You keep her." Noticing that she looked sad when he didn't accept her offer, he added, "I don't need her when I have you," which put a smile back on her face.

He was happy to see her go back to playing with her doll. It wasn't that he didn't want to talk to her—she was the most fascinating five year old he had ever met and had become like a little sister to him—he just couldn't stop thinking about something Near had said.

'I know he means a lot to you.' Matt knew that he was probably over thinking it, and he doubted that he would have read so much into it had Near not previously implied that he knew Matt wished Mello had been more than a friend. Not that it mattered. Mello wasn't coming back.

• • •

"Hey, time to wake up." Mello opened his eyes, feeling a hard jab in his ribs. In addition to looking like him, the Roger-impersonator had turned out to be about as friendly as him as well.

He looked around the cabin, not sure what the guy's rush was as the people in front of them were still in the process of disembarking. He got up anyway, not really wanting to risk receiving another jab to his ribs, and removed his backpack from the overhead compartment.

After what seemed like much longer than it should have taken for people to exit a plane, he finally made it to the gate, setting foot in England for the first time in over a year.

• • •

Matt pushed his food around his plate, not really hungry. He looked down the table; everyone else seemed to be enjoying the Christmas feast. He took one more look down at his plate before giving up.

"Why is Matt leaving?" Rosita asked him when he pushed his chair back and stood up.

"I'm just tired," he told her, "Going to bed."

"Ana can keep Matt company," she said, picking up the doll which she had brought to dinner with her.

He almost turned down her offer again, but ended up taking the doll this time. She was only trying to help after all. "Thanks, Rosita. See you tomorrow."

"Good night, Matt!" If anyone had not seen him get up from the table, he was sure that they would have been alerted that he was leaving after her rather loud farewell.

He left the dining room and went straight to his room. He didn't care that it was really early to go to bed, but the sooner he fell asleep, the sooner the day would be over. He closed the door, leaning against it, and ran a hand through his hair, glad to finally return to the seclusion of his room. Or at least he was until he heard something hit his window.

"What the hell?" he muttered to himself. He tossed Rosita's doll to his bed and went to window, lifting the shade up hesitantly. It looked like there was something in the tree outside is window. He squinted, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness.

His heart jumped when he made out the outline of a person. He was about ready to run and tell someone that there was a madman outside his window, but…the madman looked sort of like Mello.

"I've lost it," he said to himself, "I really am mental." He watched as the person—or figment of his imagination, he supposed—waved its arms, motioning for him to open the window, and almost fell out of the tree.

"Mello?" he said, cracking the window slightly.

"Yeah, it's me! Who the hell do you think it is? Now open the bloody window and let me in!" It certainly sounded like Mello, but he wasn't sure if he was relieved or not; surely this was confirmation that he had in fact gone insane. "C'mon! I'm freezing my arse off!"

Still recovering from the shock of Mello being outside his window in a tree, he slid the window open further only to be hit in the chest with a backpack. He stumbled backwards, backpack in his arms, managing to regain his footing. He looked down at it and then over to Mello who was currently climbing in the window, suddenly doubting that this was all in his head. Imaginary people couldn't knock the wind out of you by throwing a backpack at your chest, or at least, he didn't think they could.

"What took ya so long? I've been out there at least twenty minutes," Mello complained, closing the window once he was inside.

"I…" he started, still gaping at Mello, "I was at dinner."

"Didn't bring me some chocolate cake by any chance, did ya?"

"No, I…I didn't stay for dessert." Realizing he was still holding the backpack, he sat it down on the floor.

"Of course ya didn't." Mello flopped down on Matt's bed, pulling Rosita's doll out from under him. "You sleep with a doll now?" Mello asked, sounding concerned.

"I- No, it's Rosita's," he said shaking his head. It seems so surreal; Mello was sitting there, no more than a meter in front of him.

"Ahh," Mello nodded knowingly. "Girlfriend?"

"She's five," he said flatly, pulled out of his dumbfounded state by Mello's implication.

"So ya like 'em young then?"

"That's disgusting," Matt said, giving Mello a look of disbelief.

"It was a joke, Matt."

"What are you even doing here?" he spat out. He couldn't believe the way Mello was acting.

"I thought you'd be happy to see me. Some welcome this is."

"Really? You have the nerve to invite yourself into _my_ room, make sick jokes about a five year old, and now you're _offended_ that I'm not happy to see you?"

"_Our_ room," Mello corrected, "And I-"

"Right. Sorry. _Our_ room. Maybe you should just climb back out the window and leave _our_ room. Or," he added, "better yet, use the fucking door."

"Matt, listen. I'm sorry. I-"

"Oh, you're sorry? Everything's fine then because you're _sorry_. Doesn't matter that you broke your promise or that you come in here acting like an arrogant bastard because you're _sorry_."

Mello let out an exasperated sigh and suddenly got up from the bed. Before Matt knew what was happening, Mello had a hand clamped over his mouth and another at the back of his head so he couldn't move away. "Mattie, shut up for a second, okay?" Matt only glared at him. "I _am_ sorry," he said, his voice low, "I've been a rubbish best friend." Matt had to roll his eyes at this. "No, let me finish," Mello said as if he had interrupted him. "I wanted to come back, I really did, but after I made such a big deal about leaving, I didn't want to seem weak, like I couldn't handle it out on my own. That's actually why I came in through the window; I didn't want anyone to see me." He went to release Matt, but quickly clamped his hands back down. "Oh, and yeah, I kinda was acting like an arrogant bastard. Sorry, don't know what was wrong with me. I mean, what are you supposed to say to your best friend after not seeing them for so long?"

"Well, now you know what _not_ to say," Matt said when Mello finally removed his hands. "And it's okay. You kinda always were an arrogant bastard," he added, only half joking. Despite everything, Mello's apology did seem sincere, and at the very least, it was nice to just see that he was still alive.

"Thanks, Matt," he said dryly. "So, do ya forgive me?"

"All that time you were gone… You didn't have to visit," he said, not sure how to answer Mello's question, "You could have just sent a letter or something. Something that would have let me know you were okay."

Mello shook his head. "Letters can be traced. I didn't want to give Kira any leads on where I was."

"And coming here is less risky?" Matt said doubtfully.

"I decided it was worth the risk," Mello answered, offering him a smile. "Besides, I'd already missed one Christmas _and_ your birthday. Couldn't miss anything else, could I?" Matt could only stare at him in response. After feeling so many different emotions towards Mello since the night he had left—love, worry, disappointment, apathy, hatred—he was no longer sure how to feel about his return. "Oh! Actually I suppose I owe you some presents, don't I?" Mello said suddenly, not appearing to have noticed Matt's loss for words. He kneeled down to rummage around in his backpack and pulled out a small box wrapped in blue paper.

Matt took the rectangular box and slowly peeled the wrapping paper off of it. He looked at the plain box, which gave no indication of what it held for a moment, before opening it. Inside was a pair of goggles with orange tinged lenses. "These are brilliant!" he said, taking them out of the box and trying them on, running to the bathroom to see how they looked in the mirror.

"Thought you'd like 'em," he heard Mello say, sounding a bit smug.

"Like them? They're amazing! I'm never taking them off!" After a minute, he regrettably pulled himself away from the mirror and found Mello sitting on his bed again, waiting patiently for him to stop obsessing over the first of his gifts. When he saw Matt walking back towards him, he again went to search through his backpack.

He paused, evidently having found what he was looking for, but did not show Matt. "I, uh, did actually get this for your birthday so I've been carrying it around for a while," he said, looking up at him apologetically.

"I'm sure it's fine," he said, sitting down next to Mello. After receiving the goggles, he was just excited to see what the other two presents were.

He watched as Mello slid a rather ragged looking book from the backpack and held it out to him. When he read the title, he let out a small, involuntary gasp. How could have Mello even remembered?

"It was new when I got it," Mello continued, "I'm sorry it got so beat up…"

"No, it's…perfect," he said, barely above a whisper, flipping through it. "How…? I only ever said anything about it once…"

"Yeah, well, how many nine year olds would tell their new roommate that they didn't care if he made fun of him _and then_ go on to explain something about how their mother read them bits of 'Song of Myself' when they were little. Mattie, how could I _not_ remember? You were a strange little kid."

"Why do you keep calling me that? I've never heard you call me 'Mattie' before," Matt asked, temporarily distracted from the copy of Walt Whitman's _Leaves of Grass_ he held in his hands.

"Did I…call you 'Mattie'?" Mello asked, quite clearly embarrassed. Matt nodded slowly, waiting for his answer. "Well, there's a good reason for that," Mello continued, looking at the wall, his hands, anyplace besides at Matt, "And that is because…that's what I call you…in my head…"

"Oh…well I suppose that makes sense."

Mello looked at him in surprise. "It does?"

"Sure. Like how I call Roger 'wanker' in my head. I've never said it to his face, but I s'pose it could slip out," Matt shrugged.

"Right," Mello said with a laugh, "_Sort of_ like that."

Matt looked back down at the book, turning it over in his hands. "Thank you. Really, thank you," he breathed out, still amazed.

"It really wasn't a big deal or anything. When I saw it, I thought of you, so-"

"No, I mean thank you for coming. I was so angry at you for breaking your promise. I don't think I would have been able to forgive you if you hadn't come tonight."

"You forgive me already? I haven't even given ya your third gift yet."

Matt looked over to the backpack still sitting at Mello's feet, wondering what his last present was. "So?"

"What? Oh, you want your present? Well, there really isn't any point in it now. You've already forgiven me, after all," he teased.

"Fine," Matt said with a shrug, calling his bluff. Whatever it was, Mello wouldn't just _not_ give it to him after making the trip there.

Mello gave a dramatic sigh. "Well, before I give it to you, you should know that I knew," he said, his expression suddenly serious.

"Knew wha-?" Matt tried to ask, but he was cut off when Mello grabbed the hair at the nape of his neck and smashed his lips to his own.

He couldn't believe it. Of all the times he had imagined what it would be like to kiss Mello, it had finally actually happened. And then, all too soon, it was over.

"You knew? How did you know?" Matt demanded once Mello broke the kiss just as quickly as it had begun.

"Ya talk in your sleep, ya know that?" Mello said, his cheeks flushed.

"But why didn't you say something about it before?"

"Ya made it sound like you had some sort of surprise or something. I didn't want to ruin it. And then I left about a week later, so I never got to see what it was, but at that point, I figured it would be less painful if ya thought I didn't know."

Matt nodded slowly. He supposed Mello was right, but that didn't change the fact that he had still left. "Why did you decide to leave then? You didn't have to."

"Yeah, I did. I couldn't stay here anymore no matter what. I did think about asking you to go with me, but I didn't want to put you in any danger."

"I would have went, you know, if you would've asked."

"I know."

"So what now?" Matt asked, quietly. He knew Mello would be leaving again, but he didn't know if he could bear it this time now that he knew he felt the same way.

"I don't know," Mello whispered, laying his head down on Matt's shoulder.

• • •

"I'll send something whenever I can, and I'll try to visit again for your birthday," Mello said, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. After staying through most of the night, catching up and discussing how they were going to make things work—because they had decided it was worth trying to make a relationship work—it was 6:00 in the morning and time to leave as Roger would be getting up soon.

"You don't have to go," Matt pleaded, pulling Mello into a hug.

"Mattie...please don't..." he managed to get out, nuzzling into Matt's neck. _This_ was why he hadn't brought it up before. He was trying so hard not to cry.

He felt Matt nod and reluctantly pulled back. "I should get going," he said, and although Matt nodded again in response, neither one of them moved. Instead, Mello leaned back in to place a soft kiss on Matt's lips. "Bye..." he whispered and the suddenly pulled away from him.

He rushed out the window, almost falling when he climbed onto the tree. He couldn't take it anymore; he needed to leave then or he wasn't ever going to.

As soon as he was on the ground, he was running, his feet pounding against the frozen ground, taking him away from Matt. He let the tears he had been holding back go, wishing he knew when he's be able to see Matt again.

• • •

Matt watched out the window as Mello ran across the yard. It hurt to see him leave again, but he knew things would be okay this time. Even if they wouldn't be able to see each other often, he truly believed that they could make their relationship work. He had hope if only because Mello had made this the best Christmas he had ever had.

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><p><strong>AN:** As of right now, this is a oneshot. However, my beta gave me a great idea for how to continue it and make it a three or fourshot. If you would like to see this continued, please subscribe to this story and/or add it to your favorites if you so choose.

Merry Christmas everyone! Please review; reviews make me happy and would be an excellent Christmas gift for me :)


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